“Like Jess said, guessing doesn’t really serve any purpose until we know what caused that bird to be shocked.’’
“It seems pretty clear,’’ I said. “The way that electrician with the reading glasses …’’
“Gaffer,’’ Tilton said. “That’s what we call the chief electrician on the set.’’
“Sorry, it seems clear from the way the gaffer reacted, there was something wrong with that cord, and somebody put it in the puddle.’’
“You can’t assume that, Mace. Cables and cords run everywhere on a movie set.’’
“Then you’re saying it wasn’t intentional.’’
“No. I’m saying we don’t know enough to theorize.’’ Glancing back toward the trailer, he lowered his voice. “I will tell you, Jesse’s made a lot of enemies for someone so young. She’s hurt people, and that’s all I want to say.’’
I thought of Savannah pounding on the young star’s door, face tight with anger and pain.
Suddenly, I heard Tilton chuckle beside me. “Something funny?’’ I asked.
“Not really, in light of what almost happened to Jesse. But I was just thinking of how much faster everything moves in Hollywood these days. In just a few years, she’s managed to make more mistakes—and enemies—than I made in decades.’’
“So who are your enemies, Greg?’’
He gave me a half-smile, so familiar from his movies. “I’m not worried about the enemies I can name. I’m worried about the ones I can’t.’’
I watched the ground, trying to dodge the deepest rain puddles in front of the food tent. When I looked up, Tilton was staring at me.
“I meant it, you know.’’
“What?’’ I asked.
“Everything. That Jesse was really lucky you were there; that I’m sorry for coming on so strong in the woods. You clearly weren’t interested, and I had no right to try to force it. I don’t expect you just to forget, but I hope I can convince you to forgive me.’’
I must have looked skeptical, because he quickly tried to explain himself. “Seeing how close Jesse came to getting hurt, maybe dying … Norman’s murder … everything else that’s been happening on the set. All of it has made me realize how short life is. I don’t want to spend the time I have left being an asshole.’’
I think I opened my mouth. No words came out. I was that stunned.
“I’d like it if we could be friends, Mace.’’
Friends with a Hollywood legend, especially one begging me for forgiveness? Gee, I thought, let me study on that for a while.
“Okay, with a caveat,’’ I said. “Everybody oversteps a line at some point. But if forcing yourself on women is a pattern with you—and I’ve heard that it is—you need to get some help.’’
A flicker of anger lit in his eyes. “Who told you it’s a pattern?’’
“Who is not important; why is. Are you denying there’s a pattern?’’
He stopped walking and looked off to the left at the distant trees. I turned to wait for him.
“Are you?’’ I finally said.
“No, I’m not denying it. There’s some truth there.’’ He brought his gaze to mine. “You know, I had a pretty screwed-up childhood. It left some raw wounds.’’
“Which is all the more reason you should get help. Get yourself straightened out. The way to heal isn’t to hurt everybody else.’’
He put his hands in his pockets and studied the ground. “I know that.’’
“What is it, then? The power?’’
He looked at me, brows raised in a question.
“The first day we met, you mentioned you’d been in and out of lots of foster homes. You must have felt pretty powerless, being pushed around all the time. Maybe you need to feel like you can dominate someone.’’
“So you’re an animal wrangler and a psychologist?’’
“Can’t help it. My big sister psychoanalyzes me all the time. I think I caught it from her.’’
He showed me the blisters on his forearm and gave a rueful grin. “Well, if that’s what’s going on in my head, dominating you sure didn’t work.’’
“I’m serious,’’ I said.
He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know where it comes from. I’ve always resisted getting therapy. I guess I’ve played too many tough guys. I never wanted to seem weak.’’
“How’s that working out for you?’’
“Pretty bad.’’
“That should tell you something.’’ I started for the tent again, shooting a question over my shoulder. “Besides, doesn’t everybody in Hollywood have a therapist?’’
“Ah, yes. The emotionally troubled movie star. It’s such a cliché, right?’’
“It’s not a cliché if it’s your life.’’
In the tent, we picked up Jesse’s tea and Maddie’s tiramisu. I also slid a half-dozen of the still-warm cookies onto a plate. I took a bite from one, and then stirred three packets of sugar into my coffee.
“Not big on counting calories, I see.’’
“I’m a growing girl,’’ I said. “Besides, this is Himmarshee, not Hollywood. They’ve had to put in steel bars to reinforce the pews at half the houses of worship in town. Nobody counts calories in Himmarshee.’’
“Well, you look great.’’
I gave him a sidelong glance.
“I’m not hitting on you. I’m stating a fact. You look healthy, and I can attest to the fact that you’re strong. It’s a simple compliment, Mace.’’
“Yeah? Well, that’s one of my psychological issues. Everybody tells me I don’t know how to take a compliment. I’m never sure if the person means it; I never know how to respond.’’
“Just say thanks.’’
“Okay.’’ I grinned at him. “Thanks.’’
“You’re welcome. See how easy that was? I gave a beautiful woman a compliment, without expecting anything in return. You accepted it without overanalyzing what it meant.’’
His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. I saw real warmth there.
“While we’re talking so freely …’’ he said.
Uh-oh, I thought. Here comes the left hook.
“You should see your face. You look like you swallowed spoiled milk.’’
“That obvious?’’
He nodded. “All I was going to ask is if it’d be all right for us to talk again. It’s normally hard for me to open up to people.’’
“Yeah, I know how that is.’’
“How about tomorrow afternoon?’’
When I hesitated, he showed me his open palms; nothing hidden. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it a public place. Let’s say the catering tent. We can grab something to eat and two seats in the back.’’
Still, I didn’t answer. His eyes turned pleading. “I just feel like talking about getting help might make me more likely to finally get help. I know it’s wrong how I’ve treated women.’’
That’s what finally did it. I love to hear someone admit they’re wrong, as long as the someone isn’t me. “Okay, let’s make it for dinner, right there.’’ I pointed to a table just inside the tent’s entrance.
I was surprised at the relief that flooded his face at my decision. I hoped I wouldn’t regret making it.
Tilton walked me back to the picnic table. He handed Jesse her tea, gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze, and then started away. Suddenly, he turned. In what seemed like an impulsive gesture, he bent and kissed me. It was a glancing brush, but still on the lips. “Thanks, Mace.’’
Maddie’s mouth dropped open. Mama’s eyes went wide. Marty’s top teeth were making their way to the bottom row, right through her lower lip.
I was relishing their shocked expressions until I noticed Carlos at Jesse’s trailer. The gaffer was talking to him, but for the moment, at least, Carlos’s glare was aimed at the departing Tilton and at me. I wondered if a scorch spot was forming at the spot where the movie star had kissed me.
When I waved, Carlos scowled. He said somethi
ng to one of the men, and then shifted to turn his back to me. The gaffer lifted the cable and pointed to the puddle, as the first electrician on the scene nodded.
“Well, you’ve done it now, Mace.’’ When Tilton was out of whisper range, Maddie started in. “Are you trying to convince Carlos you’re the town floozy?’’
“It was a friendly kiss.’’
“From Hollywood’s most notorious womanizer,’’ Marty said in a hushed tone.
“Not smart, girl.’’ Even my new best friend Jesse piled on.
I looked at Mama, who was tsk-tsking me. “When I told you it was good to keep your man guessing, I didn’t mean for you to rub his face in all your affairs.’’
I broke off a piece of a sugar cookie. The whole thing crumbled in my lap. “I’m not having any affairs, Mama. Tilton was just thanking me for agreeing to talk with him tomorrow. He said he wants help with his issues about women.’’
“Oh, please.’’ Jesse blew on her tea. “He wants something, but it’s definitely not help.’’
I turned to watch Tilton walking through base camp. He was smiling and whistling. He didn’t look emotionally troubled. Just as I was about to tell Jesse she might be right, I noticed Carlos watching me from the corner of his eye. Of course, he would catch me at the very moment I was staring after the movie star like a love-struck fan.
Marty said, “You should go talk to him.’’
“Yes, you should,’’ Jesse said. “But could you do it after he’s finished finding out if someone intentionally tried to murder me?’’
_____
“Carlos! Wait up.’’
He walked faster. I had to run after him to catch up. “Didn’t you hear me?’’
“I heard you.’’
Thunder rolled in the distance. It looked like another storm was headed our way. I gathered my breath from my sprint across the pasture.
“Well, why didn’t you stop?’’
“I don’t have time.’’ He still hadn’t broken stride.
“Right,’’ I said. “The investigation.’’
“No,’’ he said. “It’s not that. I’ve got at least an hour to wait before the Florida Department of Law Enforcement can get here to process the crime scene at Jesse’s trailer.’’
“Crime scene?’’
“The electrician showed me where somebody skinned the cable.’’
“The gaffer,’’ I said.
“What?’’
“Never mind. What about the cable?’’
“The rubber was nicked, leaving live wire exposed. It was intentional.’’
I digested that word—intentional. I’d been right, which in this case didn’t make me feel happy. Then the other thing Carlos said registered in my mind.
“What’d you mean before? You said you don’t have time. For what?”
He finally stopped. “For you.’’
“Excuse me?’’
We stood right outside a family cemetery, created by the movie company for the location shoot. The tombstones were made of polyurethane foam, grayed and weathered to appear old. An ancient live oak, real and weeping with Spanish moss, threw long shadows across the make-believe graves.
Carlos grabbed my arm, guiding me through an opening in a split rail fence newly built, but designed to look rustic. “Let’s duck in here for a minute. I owe you that much.’’
Those ominous words made the solid ground feel like a rolling ocean beneath my feet. I almost wished one of those fake graves would gape open and swallow me. At least then I wouldn’t have to hear what I knew Carlos was about to say. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he turned me so he could look me full in the face.
“I can’t do this anymore, Mace. I need to be with someone I can trust.’’
“You can trust me. You keep getting jealous for no reason.’’
He shook his head. “I’m not jealous, I’m exhausted. Will you, won’t you? Loves me, loves me not.’’
“You’re jumping to conclusions. What you just saw with Greg Tilton? I did him a favor, and he gave me a friendly kiss. There’s nothing—nothing—between us.’’
He picked a few strands of moss from one of the low-hanging branches; rolled them between his fingers. “But you see, I’m not sure. I’m never sure. Maybe it’s the cowboy. Or it might be the movie star. Or maybe it’s somebody else. I’m constantly wondering, who are you getting together with that I don’t see?’’
His dark eyes searched my face. “You put up walls, Mace. And I’m tired of trying to knock them down.’’
Tears stung the back of my eyes. I tried to swallow. I couldn’t speak. It seemed my heart was filling up my throat.
“I want a woman who loves me completely.’’
I found my voice. “Like your late wife? I can’t replace her.’’
“I never expected you to. She was my whole life, and I was hers. I do want someone, though, that I am certain is mine.’’
I took a deep breath. “See, that scares me when you say that, Carlos. You make it sound like I’m something you want to possess. I don’t want to feel trapped.’’
“Trapped? So you think of me as your jailer?’’
I reached out to touch his cheek. He backed away from my hand. “Do you?’’ he asked.
I toed the dirt around one of the gravestones. A small one, it said Baby James Burroughs, Asleep with Jesus.
“I don’t feel trapped by you. I feel trapped with you,’’ I said. “Suppose I do commit myself one-hundred percent to you. You do the same with me. Then, suppose it doesn’t work out? That’s what I’m scared of.’’
He cocked his head. “So, is this the part where I’m supposed to reassure you? The part where I say, ‘Don’t worry, Mace. Nothing will ever happen. We’ll be together forever.’ ’’
I didn’t trust myself to speak. So I studied the graves. The stone next to Baby James belonged to his older sister. For the movie, the children died on the same day: January 6, 1893.
I watched a black swallowtail butterfly, mired in a muddy puddle left by the earlier storm. The creature was dying, its wings fluttering ever more slowly.
Finally, he answered his own question. “I can’t give you that reassurance, Mace. I know better than most that nothing is forever. Someone murdered my wife, and took her away from me. Your father died, and left you. Your mother has been married five times. Each time, she probably thought it would be forever. Nobody can make that guarantee. And frankly, I’m tired of dancing around the fact that you expect me to.’’
He looked up to the darkening sky. Black, heavy storm clouds were massing overhead. Lightning streaked across the edge of the fattest cloud.
“We’d better get in before that storm breaks loose,’’ I said.
He gave me a sad smile. “Ah, yes. The weather. Always a safe topic when you don’t know what to say.’’
“We should go,’’ I said. “The rain is really going to come down.’’
“Is that it, then?’’ he asked. “Are we broken up?’’
I pressed my lips together. What did he want to hear? Did he want me to beg him not to break up? I wouldn’t do it. Wasn’t he the one who said I wasn’t worth the trouble? There was no getting around that simple fact.
The silence stretched between us until the first fat raindrop splattered on one of the tombstones. At Peace, the inscription on the marker said.
As the skies opened, and we lit out for shelter, I knew that peace was easier said than found.
The music throbbed. The sound of cowboy boots pounding the wooden floor in time to the Charlie Daniels Band hurt my head. I took another long swallow from the Budweiser in front of me. The Eight Seconds Bar was offering a bucket of beer, five bottles for five bucks. I was getting my money’s worth.
Toby Wyle was on the dance floor, surrounded by a bevy of young beauties. I recognized the rodeo queen, and a runner-up for the Swamp Cabbage Festival’s royal court. His lips were locked with the princess from the Speckled Perch Festival, who was th
e prettiest and the blondest of the bunch.
Johnny Jaybird seethed from a seat with a ringside view of the dance floor. A peanut bowl went untouched on the tabletop in front of him. A bottle of cheap whiskey was getting a workout, though. Pouring himself a hefty glass, Johnny looked as miserable as I felt. It’s a bitch when the person you care about doesn't care about your feelings.
“Mind if I sit?’’ Savannah stood at an empty barstool beside me.
“It’s a free country.’’ I slid the peanut bowl her way. I’d already made a small mountain of shells on the barroom floor.
She settled on the stool, and waved a five-dollar bill at the bartender, an older man I didn’t recognize. He hustled toward us with another ice-filled bucket of beer.
“These are on me.’’ She plucked out the first bottle, and twisted off the cap. “I feel like an idiot for making such a fuss at Jesse’s trailer.’’
I wondered if you calculated the distance in the barroom between Johnny, Savannah, and me, would it form a perfect triangle of crushed hearts? I gave her a shrug. “Love makes people do strange things.’’
Face reddening, she studied her hands. I realized I’d over-stepped.
“Sorry, Savannah. Jesse told us about the relationship between you two.’’
“Jesse has a very big mouth.’’
I noticed she didn’t deny it. Silence settled between us like a long stretch of empty road. The jukebox switched to an oldie by Freddy Fender, “Before the Next Teardrop Falls.’’ The pounding boots turned to a slow shuffle.
She slid a plastic-wrapped praline toward me on the bar. I read the label: Savannah City Confections. I placed it in my top pocket, and then clinked my bottle to hers. “Here’s hoping for better luck in love for the both of us.’’
The corners of her mouth crooked into a grin. “Trouble with the police detective?’’
“You do not want to know,’’ I said.
I glanced over at Toby again. Savannah’s gaze followed mine. He had an arm draped around one beauty; another nuzzled his neck. The third playfully snatched the cowboy hat off his head. Perching it atop her own blond locks, she tugged at Toby’s collar to pull him close for a sloppy kiss.
Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery Page 20